Not Til The Fat Lady Sings
by LadySirius32158
Summary: Summary: Remus is teaching at the school which he once attended, along with Sirius, and the memories flood his soul, as well as the hope of seeing his lover once more...


TITLE: Not Til the Fat Lady Sings

AUTHOR: Lady Sirius

PAIRING: RL/SB

RATING: NC17

Summary: Remus is teaching at the school which he once attended, along with Sirius, and the memories flood his soul, as well as the hope of seeing his lover once more...

FEEDBACK: Of course all rights to Harry Potter belong to JK Rowling

- I would claim Sirius if I could (but alas this is not meant to be!)

DEDICATION: To my glorious, talented, wondrous and everlastingly sexy

inspiration - Gary Oldman. And to my marvelous Remus - aka Amber - who gave me hope when I was down, and brought me back from the brink of despair.

Not Til the Fat Lady Sings

_It's not over, it's not over _

_while the last note rings_

_It's not over, it's not over_

_til the fat lady sings_

_and while I've breath, we'll never end_

_You are my life, my love, my friend_

_And in my heart I've always known you were the only one_

_But our story stopped so quickly, when it was barely just begun_

_And now I'm wondering when...and how...I'll ever live again..._

_Until you're safe with me once more_

_Until I see you come right through that door_

_Until I hold you in these arms once more_

_Then and only then..._

For many years and countless generations have lovers the world over waxed enthusiastic over that cold lifeless chunk of rock in the evening sky, extolling her so-called virtues, swearing by her, exhorting her to bear witness to their eternal vows and protestations of love eternal. Fidelity in plighted troths, even though the very satellite herself is a monument to inconstancy, for she incongruously ebbs and grows in alternate growth spurts as the mood strikes her, and has a way of disappearing completely from view at whim. Some look upon her as a beautiful orb, but myself, I refer to her as the Selenic bitch, and have done so for many years. For once a month, as regular as clockwork, I am helplessly in her control, and can do nothing to resist the pull she exerts upon me, nor the change which her presence forces upon me - the transformation into a foul, loathsome beast - a hideous monster, a creature of the night, if you will - simply put, a werewolf.

And tonight is the night. Again. As I sit in the windowseat of my room here at Hogwarts, waiting for the hated goddess to make her appearance, the Marauder Map laid open upon my knees - confiscated for his own protection, from Harry - my mind is not on it at the moment, nor on my upcoming ordeal. I am used to being alone for this, as I have had to endure it alone now for some twelve years. Ever since...ever since my life was shattered one Hallow's Eve in 1981 - irrevocably, totally, unendurably. And yet I've been forced to endure it, and always shall. Still, the hope lingers inside of me. A dream - a very lovely dream...of a very beautiful boy, whom I loved and continue to love with my whole heart, and for whom even now I yearn, and whom I weep for every night, alone in my solitary bed. He should be here, not there. We should be together, not apart. Life is so not fair. But such is the life of Remus John Lupin, and fair is not a part of the equation, after all.

When I first received the request to return to this place - directly from Albus Dumbledore himself, for whom I have nothing but the highest admiration and the greatest regard - my first reaction was an unequivocal no. For how could I put myself through that, knowing what memories awaited me here, lurking in the shadows, in every nook and cranny, in every square inch of this enormous castle - Sirius and me, me and Sirius. For this is where we began. This is where we came together. And where we lived, and loved, for seven years. How could I help but be tormented by his image everywhere I turn, for his face is everywhere. And yet...and yet...it's not as if I don't carry that image with me anyway, indelibly engraved upon my heart in writing more permanently adhered than if it were stamped with the strongest India ink. And perhaps, deep within my heart, part of me hoped against hope that if he were to somehow be released from his imprisonment, perhaps he would return here, looking for me. A hope that was only reinforced when I learned that he had escaped that hellhole and was free once more - my Sirius, my love, my soul. And so I agreed to return, the other inducement being the availability of the wolfsbane potion which eased my monthly ordeal.

At Albus' request I rode the Hogwarts Express to the school, along with the students. All my protective instincts came to the fore when Harry entered my compartment, with his two friends. James' and Lily's son - Sirius' godson, and through extension, my own, although I'd not been able to see him since the night of his parent's deaths. I kept my eyes closed, feigning sleep, for it wasn't time to speak with him, not yet.

And in my mind's eye, I saw him again - my Sirius - as he was the first time I set eyes upon him. And even then I dared consider him mine, although it was only in my heart, for never did I have the nerve to voice the thought aloud. How could I think he would even look at me twice, for I was the antithesis of everything I thought he wanted - a skinny, shy, young _male,_ a hideous monster beneath the surface, nothing special, nothing to attract the attention of the reigning sex god of Hogwarts. And yet how much I wanted him, and yearned for him.

He confused me so greatly, my Sirius did. All the girls loved him, and I thought that he loved them as well. He certainly shone in their company, set them to laughing in great peals of merriment which went straight to my heart, turning it pure green with envy. They hung on him, on every word he uttered, hung upon his arm and made up excuses to touch him. Followed him about like sheep. How hard it was to control the wolf, for he had decided that Sirius was his mate and it took all I had to keep him from snarling at the girls, or even ripping their heads off. And yet at the same time, Sirius and I spent all of our time together, and he was forever touching me - or was I merely sensitive to his touch, wishing there to be more in it than what appeared to be there on the surface of things? He left me in a perpetual state of horny which was excruciating in my vulnerable adolescent condition. How often was I forced to wait until the middle of the night to relieve myself of the pressure which he caused, and inevitably it was to his image that I did so, touching myself as I imagined him touching me, wishing it were him, wanting him so badly, until I found my release, his name upon my lips. Until the next day, that is, when it would start all over again.

I felt the train lurch to a sudden halt, felt the growing iciness about me - and of course I knew why this had happened. Dementors. Soul suckers extraordinaire. The same foul loathsome creatures which had tormented my Sirius for twelve years and even now sought to contain him. I knew he was not on the train - for if he had been, I would have felt his presence. So I was not concerned at this pointless search even as it was being conducted.

...until one of them had the audacity to enter our compartment. For some reason it centered itself upon Harry, and I could feel rather than hear his torment, and I knew that I had to intervene, so up I sprang from my seemingly somnolent state, and I angrily aimed my wand and called forth a patronus, driving back the foul creature. And having once ascertained that Harry was none the worse for wear, and having given him some soul-healing chocolate, I left the three children - ostensibly to have a word with the driver, but in actuality to verify for myself that my lover were indeed not on the train, nor in the dementor's loathsome clutches - which, of course, he was not.

As the Sirius Black sightings grew steadily closer to Hogwarts, my heart could not help but leap up within my breast at the thought that he was returning to me, even as my traitorous brain said he had no reason to think that I was there. Yet at the same time he had no reason not to either...

And then came the night when he actually did arrive - and the news spread throughout the school as news is wont to do, passed from person to person in excited whispers to become part of the general gestalt of the place. All were returning from dinner to their respective houses, that sleepy time of transition twixt the lazy buzz of dinner conversation to that time when most studying would begin in earnest, when the cry went up and was carried on winged feet - the fat lady was missing! The fat lady was missing! Instantly a search began of all the paintings, until she was at last discovered and her tale told - of the evil creature that had slashed her painting when she would refuse him admittance, even with the proper password - my Sirius, of course. He had managed to thoroughly frighten her, and it was decided then that she not return to her original post, but Sir Cadogan gallantly offered to take her place.

Once all the hubbub and furor had died down, and the students were bedded down for the night in the Great Hall, as I was doing my rounds, unable to sleep, and working out my agitation in motion - all of the teachers, of course, having been given this duty - I passed beside the portrait which temporarily housed the Fat Lady. She was still quite perturbed, of course, but seemed measurably calmer than she had before, and she caught my eye as I glanced her way.

"Fie, fie, Professor Lupin. You should find better friends than that!" she advised me in her own inimitable fashion. I turned to face her, my own turmoil carefully hidden within my breast.

"He would never have truly hurt you, you know," I pointed out, "Sirius isn't like that!"

"You didn't see him!" she declaimed dramatically, clasping her plump hands over her heart. "He is changed! He is gone bad, I tell you - and quite mad, he is!"

I felt myself growing angry at her words, and it took a great deal of effort not to lose my temper, but calm I remained, as I said softly, "He must have had his reasons," to which she merely harrumphed and told me there was no fool like an old fool as I walked on, lest I find myself in the middle of the night in an argument with a painting, for Merlin's sake...

I turned the corner, and feeling myself spent, my emotional control eroded, I leant against the wall for support, trembling, aching, and my thoughts revolved, as they invariably did, about Sirius, and suddenly I felt myself slipping back in time, to a time when Sirius and I were very much together, having left Hogwarts upon graduation, and living together in Sirius' flat which he got with the money left to him by his Uncle Alphard...

_As flats go, it wasn't very much to look at. It contained a single bedroom, a living area of cramped dimensions, and a smallish kitchen and tiny bath. But to us it was heaven, because it was ours, and no longer were we subjected to hiding in one or the other of our beds, setting silencing charms and privacy charms in deference to the sensibilties of our dormmates, cause there was no one else but us, and what a glorious feeling that was indeed. And don't think that Sirius didn't take advantage of our newfound freedom to prance about in the altogether every chance he got. Mind you, I have to admit that I didn't complain - although I suspect he was sorry sometimes when he was cooking - which is why I bought him an apron, to cover certain tender parts - and oh how sexy he looked in it, and sometimes I would simply stand and watch him at the stove, staring at his lovely backside... Sorry, I've wandered again..._

_Sirius became an auror, and went to work for the Ministry, while I was lucky to get a part time job at a nearby bookstore. Very lucky indeed considering the restrictions placed upon me by my registered condition. And we both had our work with the Order, of course. A lot of work, but not a lot of money between us. And yet we were happy - very very happy. And we looked forward to the time we could spend together, and we didn't mind staying in, since we couldn't afford to go out, since we were together. But even so, now and then we managed to scrape together enough for an occasional concert or play or film. And life was good - it was very very good._

_I remember very clearly my excitement the day that Sirius brought home two tickets to the Götterdämmerung. I was more interested in opera than he was, although he and I both loved musicals, but he found opera to be less enjoyable, and often teased me for my taste. Well, of course, I had to retaliate with a few chosen remarks concerning Jim Morrison and the Doors, his veritable idol. But it was all done in fun. And we were never angry with one another, we never fought. Every disagreement we ever had we worked out, because neither one of us could stand being unhappy with the other. That's just the way we were. Are. Will be again._

_At any rate - we dressed in our very finest muggle clothes - and I had to remind Sirius that jeans were not within the realm of possibility. He knew better, of course, but sometimes he likes to see what he can get away with. He grew up with money and privilege, and knowing how to dress for every occasion, but he was never a snob about it, not like most of his family. Merlin, it's amazing to what degree the purebloods are all related. I'm lucky that Sirius has always been his own person, not another sheep in the fold._

_We found ourselves in a private box in Albert Hall - how luxurious it was, and how profligate we felt to have such a thing all to ourselves. And not once did I ask Sirius how he had acquired such wonderful seats, telling myself not to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth, nor question divine providence, since I was more than sure that if I were to discover the source of this bounty, my joy in it might be somewhat diminished. I'm only human after all, all evidence to the contrary ...The theatre was filled to capacity, a mixed throng of merrymakers, all intent on listening to the emotional Wagnerfest. I had to restrain Sirius from taking his program and making it into birdshapes to fly about the audience below us, and more than once I had to remind him in no uncertain terms not to pull his wand in public. Especially not muggle public. Shortly after the opera began, my Sirius fell asleep, and I let him be, of course, content to hold his hand in my lap, and watch the story unfold upon the stage, as well as listen to the sounds of his peaceful slumber, which reached my sensitive ear even through the strains of the Germanic opera. Although he woke at various intervals throughout the performance, asking, "Is it over yet?" to which I would patiently reply, "Not until the fat lady sings, Siri..." and he would return to the land of Nod once more._

_And when it was concluded, and Brunhilde's last notes echoed about the theatre, he was the first to applaud, leaping to his feet and clapping enthusiastically, crying out,'Bravo'! in his beautiful tenor, that voice which never failed to thrill me, and to which I joined mine, our own private duet. As we worked our way together through the throng whcih was exiting the theatre, he pressed his chin onto my shoulder and asked thoughtfully, "Is it always like that, Remy? It isn't over til the fat lady sings?"_

_"Pretty much, Siri," I replied, twining my fingers with his gently. And on our way home, just for a special treat, we splurged a little, bought a commemorative programme at the theatre, much nicer than the gratis ones provided to one and all, and then Sirius got us some chocolate at our favourite confectionary, which we fed to one another that night in bed ..._

The programme sits, even now, in the trunk which contains the few possessions I have - I've found it expedient to travel lightly, as I frequently move from place to place, never able to keep a job for very long, for obvious reasons, and never knowing when I will be asked to move on. But some things I refuse to part with - anything that has to do with my Sirius - and that is one of them, one of the memories I retain and cherish, besides the ones that reside within my heart. As well as the ring he gave to me, which I wear on a chain about my neck, close to my heart - and the promise on his lips when he presented it to me - that some day we would be wed.

O Sirius, my Siri - how my heart aches to be with you again, to hold you in these arms, even now - and when we meet again - and note that I say when, not if - will you even know me? I've aged so much in the time that we've been apart - I'm not the youth you remember, not even the young man I once was. Time has stamped an indelible impression on this scarred face of mine. But I daresay that you have changed as well, and not necessarily for the better, considering where you've been. But of course you will always be beautiful to me...

I glance down at the map on my lap, casually, for at this time of night, not much is usually stirring. I check the Gryffindor boys' dorm, as is my wont, to assure myself that Harry is asleep. But there seems to be no sign of him, so I continue to peruse the map.

And then I see it, and I feel myself grow pale. No, this can't be, I moan to myself, even as I leap up in agitation. I look again - nothing has changed. The name I had thought I'd seen, even as I feared it must be a mistake, is actually there. He is here, he is here, he is here! My heart sings joyously at the knowledge. But, according to the map, so is someone else - someone I'd long believed to be dead, and I remember what Harry had told me when I confiscated the map from him, and which I had discounted at the time, as without hesitation I make my way from my room, heading toward the Whomping Willow, and my Sirius...

It is a strange scene which meets my eyes as I burst into the Shack - Harry grappling with a gaunt tattered man upon the floor, in the act of drawing his wand - it takes only a moment for me to realize that it is indeed my one and only love that lies beneath the boy, but I've no time to catalog the changes in my lover, as I draw my own wand and nod to Harry to step aside, to take his place beside his two friends, Ron and Hermione. And because of their presence, I cannot simply hold out my arms to him as my heart dictates, as logic demands, so I must content myself with a coded message instead.

"Well, well, Sirius, at last the outer you reflects the madness within..."

"You should know all about the madness within, Remus," he rejoins, as he bares his discololoured teeth in a grin - nothing that a little wizardy can't cure, I note to myself, as if I have already begun to plan our future together once more - and then we can stand it no longer, I reach down to help him to his feet, turning my wand away from him, and we are in one another's arms, hugging our welcomes, albeit restrainedly. And then his voice, so warm in my ear, as he says the words that answer the unspoken question in my heart...

"The fat lady hasn't sung yet, Remy..."

And I know exactly what he means, and it takes all my self-restraint to not press my lips against his hungrily, and devour him right then and there. And I might yet have done that, for I wasn't ashamed of my feelings for this man, but a female voice draws us back to reality.

"Snape was right," the accusatory tones of Miss Hermione Granger ring out,"you _are_ his friend and you _are_ helping him..."

At that point, time begins to slide kaleidoscopically, as Sirius and I present our arguments to the three young people, and as Sirius reveals the whereabouts of one heretofore believed-to-be-dead Peter Pettigrew, which argument is interrupted by the arrival of the man that Sirius hates the most in the world, I think - and Snape and Sirius go at it just as if it were sixteen years ago and they were still students at Hogwarts - including a well-aimed jab at us, snaping at us that we are arguing just like an old married couple - (which for all intents and purposes we are) but because Harry believes us, rather than him, he disarms the potionsmaster, knocking him cold and we are allowed to detransfigure the scarred rat that Ron clutches so desperately, revealing our weasely former friend - no pun intended, and no insult toward the Weasley family either. And of course he tries to talk his way out of the consequences of his actions of that long ago day, slimeball that he is - just looking at him makes my blood boil, for he is indeed the author of the tragedy that bears mine and Sirius' names - but Harry says no, take him back to the castle, when we would execute him on the spot. That boy is wise, just like his father. Let the dementors have him, he says, which is a most befitting fate, considering what Sirius has had to endure these past twelve years. And then we are outside of the Whomping Willow once more - and for a moment all is peaceful, as Sirius and Harry share a quiet godson/godfather moment, there, beneath the moon...

Oh Merlin, the moon, how could I have forgotten? And in the excitement I realize that I haven't taken my potion. Or has Snape even brought it to me yet today? I cannot remember, and at the moment it's rather a moot point. Forgive me, Sirius, forgive me, children...RUN! GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE NOW!

It's happening, I can feel it - she's pulling at my bones, that heartless orb, wrenching my insides so painfully that I can barely stand it. Sirius, my Sirius, so brave he is, albeit sometimes foolhardy, grabs me in a big bearhug, even as he first places his hands over my chest, insisting, "This heart is where you live, Remus, this heart..." and then yells to the three frozen children to RUN! I am aware of his proximity, of his touch, so soothing, so calming - but it is too late, there is nothing he can do, the transformation will come, I can feel it, he needs to get away from here now, transfigure, or he is dead...and as I feel myself morphing into the wolf, I lose all sense of myself - and what was once Remus Lupin is now Moony, and I know nothing more until...

...I awaken, sore, aching, confused and weary. The first thing that greets my line of sight is the night sky, which is gradually giving way to the pink hued dawn which heralds the start of a new day. Gingerly I stretch. Every muscle I possess aches, and I can feel fresh scratches all over my body, and only then do I realize that I am in the infirmary and it is over once more for another month. I sigh, as I attempt to roll over, but every movement brings on a fresh feeling of pain, which stacked one upon the other in a cascading tier of pain eventually begins to dull by the sheer pressure of being. Was last night a dream - a lycanthropic induced delusion? It must have been, surely, I sigh to myself...and then I catch a glimpse of movement near my bed, and I feel the bed shift, as if a weight has been added to it, the curtains are quickly drawn and I can hear a privacy spell being cast. I hold my breath, even as I instinctively reach for my wand. But I am naked beneath the sheets, and of course it is not at hand, probably lying safely on the table beside the bed.

"Are you intending to hex me, then?" a familiar voice asks with a chuckle, and my heart is leaping from my chest in rapture as those dulcet tones vibrate against my cochlea. No dream, but reality, which means that last night truly happened...oh dear Merlin, what have I done? If I've harmed either him or those children, I'll never forgive myself...

As if he can read my mind - which sometimes I think he truly can - he whispers, "You're the only one hurt here, Remus, Padfoot was a little worse for wear, but Harry - our brave Harry - came through and saved us both. He managed to call forth a patronus, thanks to you, my love - he told me what you've been doing for him - and he saved us both..."

"Siri, what are you doing here?" I ask frantically, even as it clutch at him frantically, hold him close, as if I'll never let him go - and if I had a choice in the matter, I surely wouldn't. "You must leave, they'll find you, I can't let them find you, I can't lose you again..." my voice rising hysterically as I bury my face in his chest - his poor tattooed chest, covered with the proof of his prisoner status, hiding that beautiful skin that I know so well.

"Sssh, sssh, love," he soothes me, stroking me with those familiar hands - familiar and yet different, rougher, more callused than I remember, even from hours of quidditch play, and my heart goes out to him at what he must have endured over the past twelve years in that formidable hellhole. "I don't have long, I know, but I had to see that you were all right, I had to be with you again, before I have to leave, my love, I've missed you so..." and without further ado, his lips meet mine, my lips meet his, our lips meet in a heartstopping gutwrenching reunion kiss, the likes of which needs to be seen to be experienced - and I never hope to experience such a thing again, for what it took to get there is beyond imagining.

"Sirius," I moan into his mouth, "Gods, Sirius, I'm sorry, so very sorry...I wanted to come to you, I truly did, but they wouldn't allow it, they said I wasn't family..I should have found a way, I should have tried harder..."

"Remy," he cries in his turn, "I've missed you so, I wanted to let you know that I didn't do it, I didn't do it, and when they told me you weren't coming because you believed I killed those people, my heart broke, and then when you didn't come...but I realize you couldn't, I know that now...I'm here, I'm here, love...here, with you...at last..."

And when words cease, our lips tell the story as they hungrily devour one another in our urgency to feel one another, to have one another, to be one another. Suddenly, he stops what he is doing, pulls back from me, and a look of deepest contrition crosses his face. "Forgive me," he says, "forgive me, Remy, have I hurt you?" And he looks so woebegone, so much like the little boy he has always been, that I have to keep from laughing, even as I see what I had missed before, namely what the ravages of time have done to my beautiful boy - his hair is matted and lackluster, that which was once shiny and silky smooth, which I loved to run my fingers through. His teeth are neglected and yellowed, his skin filthy and rough, while beneath his haunted blue eyes, deep black circles lie - oh dear Merlin, how he must have suffered. But I refuse to show any adverse reaction to his altered visage, for he is still beautiful to me and always will be.

"No, my love, now that you are here, I am whole again," I whisper, and this time it is I that is using the spell which he put to such good use in our youth, it is I that am equalizing our conditions so that we are both of us naked beneath these sheets, and it is I that am casting extra spells for silence and privacy. Yes, I know damn well what it is I do, and nothing will stop me from doing it, for it has been far too long, and I need my Sirius, need him now, need him in the worst possible way... as well as the best...

"Remy," he moans into my lips, "I'm not sure this is such a good idea, you're just getting over the change, I don't want to hurt you..."

"No, my love," I whisper back, "this is just what the doctor ordered... Sirius, you are what I need, what I've needed for a long time. Can you deny me now, my darling? Can you tell me that you don't want me as badly as I want you?" My hands are roaming his body now with a fierce intent, remapping that which once was so familiar to me - how emaciated my poor boy is, a mere shadow of his former self, so gaunt that each and every rib can be seen and felt, even beneath the hellish tattoos. His own hands, despite his protestations to the contrary, are busy on a reconnoitering mission of their own, and I can feel his desire for me, as strong as mine for him, and I know that he will not withhold himself from me... Especially as I know that he will be leaving shortly, and we shall endure another separation - but at least this one will be endurable, and of a much shorter duration. I only wish for him to be safe - the rest will take care of itself, for I know that we are meant to be.

I slide my hand around his still very large, very hard appendage, encompassing it and mine within my grasp. "Siri, if I could I'd do this properly, but I know I don't have the energy," I confess, "but you know I want you, don't you, know that I want to be inside of you, my love, wish to pound you hard into the mattress, make love to you until you cry out my very name to the heavens, don't you?"

"Oh yes, oh yes, I know," he moans, and I can tell from his reaction to my touch that it has been every bit as long for him as it's been for me - not that I even doubted it, nor do I think he did either. We have been and shall always be each other's one and only, no matter what circumstances may separate us physically, we shall always be emotionally welded in a union which will last forever.

The friction of our cocks rubbing together has become well nigh unbearable, for although wanking in the lonely night to visions of my poor boy helps to relieve the tension, there is nothing like the real thing, and never will be.

"Oh Sirius," I moan, and he echoes my cry with, "Oh Remy..." We clutch each other tightly, rubbing against one another frenziedly, our hands working together in this moment of mutual masturbation, and I've completely forgotten the aches and pains which generally accompany my monthly sojourn as a monster, for this feeling overrides that, and supersedes it - Sirius Black is all that I see, all that I hear, all that I feel - he is all that lies within my soul, nay he _is_ my very soul, and none there is shall tear us asunder again.

"Gods, Remy, I can't hold out," he softly whimpers, but that is not surprising - his resilience and his stamina must be at a nadir, while even my own lycanthropic stamina is sorely tried by years of abstinence. But it doesn't matter, not at all - this frantic hasty coupling is intended to relieve the pressure, reestablish the connection and verify to each other that we are here and we are alive and it's merely the icing on the cake for what will come later, when we have the time, and when we are not here. But for now we are merely happy to be together, expressing our love for one another in this fashion.

"Cum for me, my Siri," I urge him, my voice hoarse with love, and lust, and a myriad of feelings and sensations - twelve years of loneliness and repression and desire all brought to the fore, all gathered together and given over to my lover, who reciprocates in kind, for he and I have suffered together, while separately - and his pain is my pain is our pain which is being pushed to the background by our union.

His handsome face contorts in the pain of an orgasm twelve years in the making as he finds his release, at the exact moment that I find mine, and our mutual names ring out, but only to us, luckily, as our love juices flow in hot streams over our conjoined hands, and at lrast we find surcease of sorrow in one another's arms, as we collapse together in a sweaty tangle of limbs, and lips and soft words, and softer sighs, and we are one once more...

It doesn't occur to me until later that we have not been interrupted, not even once, by Poppy, and I know damn well she has made her rounds at least once since he has come into my bed, and I suspect that she saw him, and chose to say nothing - she's known about us since we were mere youths, when Sirius would slip into the infirmary the morning after, and slide next to me, warming me with his mere presence - she once confided to me that she knew before we did that we were in love. I will thank her later. But for now, we simply lay together, and whisper our love, and our promises, and our dreams of a future that is still ours to share...

And before the sun completely rises, I chase him from the infirmary, tell him to take Buckbeak and go, lest he be caught, for that I could not bear, and we kiss as if it were the last time, even though in our hearts we know that is not the case. And then he is gone, and I am alone once more, but it is a different sort of loneliness, and I wear an enigmatic smile, as I lie in the infirmary for the rest of the day, recuperating, and ruminating on my dearest love...

Soon, my Sirius, soon, we shall be together forever...

Epilog:

Shortly after the full moon, and the incredible scene in the Shrieking Shack, Remus Lupin decided to leave Hogwarts, for someone (namely one disgruntled potions master) had spread the word among the parents concerning his condition, and he considered it expedient to leave, as he explained to Harry, while he packed his few things, rather than allow Albus Dumbledore to put himself out any further than he already had. He returned the Marauder's Map to Harry with a clean conscience, as he was now no longer his teacher, and he strode from the classroom with his head held high, humming softly, his destination unclear...

... and that night, outside of Hogsmeade, he waited, in a clearing, fingering the ring which still hung on a chain about his neck, until the sound of wings could be heard, and a large hypogriff landed near where he stood, and seated atop that hypogriff, which of course was Buckbeak, was none other than Sirius Black, Remus' knight in shining armor, even though the armor was comprised of tattered rags. He reached down and took Remus' hand, helping him to take a position behind him - the postilion position he had ever occupied on Sirius' flying motorcycle - some things never change - with a fierce kiss of welcome for his lover. For they were together now, and always would be.

And together they flew off into the distance to begin the rest of their lives...

And the fat lady has still not sung...


End file.
